


See me beautiful

by Edelwin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-01-23 16:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12511852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edelwin/pseuds/Edelwin
Summary: Post S4. John is finally back at Baker Street. Sherlock would do anything to keep him there. Anything.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Sherlock knew he wasn't supposed to do that kind of thing these days. Things between them were so much better. Now they talked. Sort of.

 

After Mary, after Eurus, after this whole fiasco, they had settled on one rule : no more secrets, no more assuming the other knew what one of them was about.

 

And it worked, mostly. John seemed happy, balanced, confident. John trust him again. He let him watch his daughter alone, for Christ sake ! They laughed, run after criminals, argued about inane things such as keeping experiments too close to things they were supposed to eat. Long gone were the guilt and the hard feelings. And then...

 

Sherlock needed to think. Maybe he'd been wrong, that would certainly not be the first time. Especially when it came to these – sentiments, not his area. He had thought about it a lot after his birthday, nearly two years ago.

 

"Complete you as a human being". It still didn't make sense, not in his experience anyway. He had even researched it. Couples, romantic entanglements. Lots of data were to be found. None made sense.

 

His conclusion had been a bitter one. No need to compare the data with the facts stored in his mind palace, he knew they could never match. He wasn't that naive, even in those matters. In this area, he was doomed to fail.

 

So John's belief that romantic entanglements were a way to improve one's life only meant one thing : one day John would leave. Sherlock didn't know if he could go through another wedding, another best man speech.

 

Of course he could, he told himself. It's all just transport in the end. Though he had read the other day about broken hearts being a real, medical condition. Sometimes, after a loved one passed away, people would show all the signs of an heart attack, though nothing was eventually wrong with their hearts. Anyway. Irrelevant.

 

How could you rely on another person to make you happy when you were supposed to find happiness in that person too ? As if two people could have the exact same need in the exact same time. What were the odds ? And what was the fuss with happiness anyway ? Domestic bliss. Boring.

 

But... This morning he'd been awaken by the sound of his door being opened not-so-slowly, followed by not-so-quiet tiptoes. Then a muffled 'Lock ? You asleep ? Dad said no to wake you..." He had promised Rosie to bring her to the park that morning. The spring has settled in and she loved watching bugs as much as he did, though she prefered ants over bees. "Ants are more funny", she said. "Funnier", he'd replied, though he didn't get her point. Bees were so much more... Focus, Sherlock, not the point here.

 

He had completed a good case the day before, one that lasted a bit more than three days. By the middle of the afternoon, back at Baker Street, he had been welcome by a very cuddly Rosie. They had made plans for the next day, and he had fallen in his post-case near comatose slumber. He also had promised John he would eat three square meals that day.

So they had a full breakfast, had been strolling Regent's park for the best part of three hours, and been back for lunch. Then nap (on Rosie's part), a bit of tyding up (on John's part) a bit of research on case-related stuff (on his part). By the end of the day, Rosie was playing in the sitting room, telling herself elaborated stories, and John had been cooking a very good-smelling thing. Then all hell broke loose

\- "Would you taste it, please ? I want to make sure you're actually going to eat it, just to know I'm not wasting my time here." John said with a smile, holding out a spoon of the asparagus risotto he was making.

Sherlock bend over to lick the spoon. He hummed in delight and was ready to tell John how good it was, when he saw it. John's pupils had darkened a bit, and as Sherlock stood back, John was watching his lips with an unmistakable air of arousal. John wants me, was the only thought that crossed Sherlock's brain before he panicked.

\- "I... The case... Just remembered loose ends... Don't wait up..."

Then he run down the stairs, grabbed his coat and was gone, leaving a gobsmacked John in the kitchen, an empty spoon in his hand.

 


	2. Chapter 2

"You said it all before, you know he got it the first time !" His father sounded more amused than annoyed.

"Shut up, you fool, I still think he's way too young to take care of himself. I know my kids are gifted, but he'll be surounded by adults, and he's just a kid ! Two years are a lot of time at his age. So what was I saying ? Yes, don't forget my cousin Lina in High Wycombe, you can call her if..."

Sherlock did his best to look calm and uninterested, but he was indeed nervous. High school had been barely tolerable, college might not be much better, and this time he wouldn't even have the safe haven of home at night. He never got along well with people outside his family, and actually living with his peers could hardly go well. He let his mother voice fade away and looked outside the car window.

The boy – Albert - he shared his room with wanted to be a lawyer like all the males in his family had been for eons. He was two years older than him, like everybody in his year was, and assured Sherlock's mother he would protect him . But Sherlock quickly deduced he had been passing his tests by bribing the right people. He meant it nicely, thinking it took some skills to know who would take a bribe and who wouldn't. But Albert was furious, and then took to ignore him entirely.

For the next six months or so, Sherlock's other efforts to find a common ground with the other boys all went sour. He shared his time between the library and the chemistry lab, and tried to ignore the only thing college had taught him so far : loneliness is a very vivid feeling.

"I asked you if you want to pair up with me." Sherlock raised his head and blinked dumbly at the boy standing in front of him. The chemistry teacher had given them a project to be done by pair, and he had ignored it, knowing by then that no one would work with him. And then, here was this boy... Thaddeus if he remembered correctly, waiting for his answer with a smirk.

"You want to work with me."

"Yeeees... Aren't you supposed to be some sort of weird genius ? What word don't you understand ?"

"Why ?"

"Honestly ? I need a perfect grade, and I suck at chemistry. Everyone says you're a freak, but the best with this stuff, so..."

Sherlock agreed, and their work sessions had started. It was nice to speak with someone. Thaddeus was witty and had a dry sense of humor that Sherlock understood better than common jokes. He wanted their sessions to last. So he did his best to keep himself in check, never voicing his deductions about his co-coworker or anyone else, trying to get along with Thaddeus' moods, agreeing with all the other boy's opinions, even the most inane ones.

And it worked. So he went on. When Thaddeus kissed him a few weeks after, he let him, only wonderind how he hadn't seen that one coming. When Thaddeus brought him to a very noisy party, gave him a lot to drink, and brought him back to his room to fuck him, he let him. He didn't really stop to ask himself if he had wanted that. He had known distantly, for years, that should he pick someone one day to have sex with it was likely to be a boy, but never really acted on it. So why not. It felt good to be accepted.

Thaddeus left him two months later, telling him he was too much trouble for his worth. Being alone was even worst now he had had a taste of companionship. 

A friend of Thaddeus', Alexander, asked him out. He was way more controlling and liked to keep Sherlock in check, explaining him what he should say, what he needed to do to be accepted. He was also into much rougher sex, and didn't really take no for an answer. 

Again, Sherlock let him and tried to bend to the other boy's needs at the best of his abilities. But Alex had been a few years ahead, he graduated and made it clear that Sherlock wasn't to try to contact him ever again. It wasn't as if Sherlock was long term relationship material, after all.

Then, on his second year, he met Sebastian and his friends, and cocaine. It all became a bit of a blur, but whenever he woke up in one of the boys' bed, or alone but strangely sore, with no memories of the night before – or with memories he was willing to delete as soon as possible - he knew he could rely on drugs to make everything better. 

Years later, his life mostly put together, he had learned his lesson. No one will love you for who you are, and however hard you try, it's never going to be enough. Mycroft had been right all along : caring is not an advantage. He kept to himself and put all his mind in the Work.

Then John happened. He had been the exception, seeming to actually like Sherlock from the start and to find his countless flaws tolerable. He thought about it, and came to the conclusion that John could accept him as long as his life was well balanced by other people. John string of girlfriends had been something of a nuisance, but a neccessity. With Mary, it had been perfect : shooting part left aside, she had genuinely liked Sherlock and understood his relashionship with John. After the first months of marital bliss, she would never have drove them apart.

Now his options were scarce : let John seek another girlfriend who might take him away, or try to fulfill his needs himself, with the risk of putting him off entirely, like he had everybody else.

Not really a choice then, he just had to be better this time.


	3. Chapter 3

John was spread out on the sofa with a book when Sherlock went back.

"Oh, you're back ! I left you some risotto in the oven. You did promise me three meals today, you still owe me one !"

He was smiling and sounded genuinely pleased to see Sherlock, not at all put off by his sudden departure.

Sherlock smiled back and went to fecth a plate. In front of the oven, he took deep breathes and tried to put his thoughts together. He had made a plan on his way back, now he just needed to sort a few details and to find a good timing. He went back to the sitting room and sat at his desk.

"You all right ? You seem awfully quiet. Any problem with these loose ends ?" John asked.

"I'm fine thanks, just tired. It... all went well."

Sherlock ate in silence for a while, and John went back to his book. Sherlock kept looking at him discreetly, and began to put a mental list together.

John wanted someone who would eat and sleep and generally keep healthy habits, but not so much that he wouldn't have to take care of them. He loved taking care of people. And he had a special fondness in feeding Sherlock. So not too much change in that regard, let him feel needed. Sherlock could safely go on pretending he didn't know were the nearest Tesco was. 

But John loved attention. No more mind palace time when he was there, and obviously no more sulking. Of course Sherlock would have to see when John wanted him there and when he needed space, but that was easy enough. Sherlock made a mental note to ask Lestrade for a bunch of cold cases. He would need to keep them at the ready for the times John needed action. Cases draw him towards Sherlock in the first place, Sherlock had to keep that in mind.

John hated above all his own inner violence, so no pushing him. Sherlock didn't think that changing their relationship would lead John to new outbursts of violence, but then he had never been good at predecting those. If that happened, he would have no other choice but to endure it. He could live with being roughed up a bit, but he couldn't risk John leaving because John himself couldn't stand his own acts. Sherlock didn't have enough data to know for certain what would happen, so this point would need further exploration.

They were enough of a couple already so that the only significant evolution would be physical intimacy. It didn't take a genius to know that John was, above all, a good man, and that the first thing he would want was for any sex act to be consensual, and enjoyable for all parties involved. Sherlock had enough experience to know that his technique would be satisfying. The tricky thing was to give John exactly what he wanted, when he wanted it, without letting him know it was an act. Not because Sherlock couldn't act, but because that would put John off entirely. It was a good thing John never learned to see through him, but the man wasn't blind ever, and there was a delicate balance to be found.

Being intimate with John wasn't repulsive. Sherlock had to admit he had entertained the though a few times, even when he was convinced John would never be amenable to the idea. He just hoped John's tastes would not be too peculiar – he knew John had been vanilla enough with his past girlfriends, but would he stay that way with someone like him ? Sherlock could endure lots of things, but he couldn't deny he had issues. Some things could trigger very bad reactions, but denying John anything would be even worse...

"...bit scary here. Sherlock ? You're with me ?"

Sherlock realised John had been calling his name a few times. That was going well. He was failing before he had even started.

"Sorry, got a bit lost in my mind. What were you saying ?"

"You were looking at me like I'm one of your experiments, I don't really mind but it's a bit unsettling, I'd like my body parts to stay together and nowhere near the fridge."

John had a warm smile on his face, but his eyes showed his concern.

What was the saying ? There's no time like the present ? Sherlock put on his best genuine-yet-a-bit-shy face.

"John, I think I'm in love with you."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A look that lingered. Increase or decrease of John usual speaking ryhthm. The way he moved. Since the beginning of their now sentimental (sexual ?) relationship, Sherlock got better and better at knowing not only when Joh wanted sex but what and how it would satisfy him the most.

A month and a half ago, after a few minutes of stunned silence and some stuttering, John had taken his impromptu declaration with an interesting mix of joy, relief and enthousiasm, and responded in kind. The love card had been a bold move, Sherlock knew that, but he also thought than John would not risk their friendship for anything less. And it worked. 

After asking Sherlock a million times if he was sure and willing and ready, and a thousand inane questions to ensure his informed consent, they had fallen in bed that very same night. 

Since then, things had been good, John being considerate and gentle -as predicted - and frankly not asking a lot – nothing out of Sherlock's comfort zone anyway. It was so good that Sherlock even took to initiate sexual encounters at times, something he had never done before. Sex had always been an ordeal or a mean to an end. He couldn't let himself become needy though, and had to keep in mind John's needs were first and foremost. That had to stay the rule, with sex like with everything else.

"What 's all that ?" John stood in the kitchen, a freshly retrieved from day care and very sleepy Rosie in his arms.

"Experiment."

"It smells a lot like cinnamom for an experiment"

"An experiment on how many cinnamom rolls you can eat while we watch that movie you brought the other day to feel pleasantly full but still be able to..."

"Child's listening !" cut John, a smile in his eyes.

"She's asleep, and anyway I'm just saying I'm also expecting to feel pleasantly full tonight, that's all."

John chuckled, rolled his eyes and went to give Rosie her bath, trying to wake her up gently :

"Come on cupcake, it's too early to sleep, wake up a bit..." the bathroom door closed and Sherlock only heard muffled sounds. 

He was relieved to see his timing had been good. John had mentioned his craving for home-made cinnamom rolls exactly three days ago. Making them too soon would have seem like too much of an effort. Too late, they might not have been appreciated. Thinking about John expression when he had seen him cooking, he could see it had been a good idea. He went back to his rolls more relaxed.

Later, when they lay in bed, sweety and sated, John had watched him fondly.

"I'm happy you know, about us. What we have. It's good."

He had the warmest smile ever, and Sherlock couldn't resist and kissed him again.

And it was good. John had never been violent, nor controlling. He had even stopped flirting with anyone else. He didn't require Sherlock to tell him about his whereabouts at all time. He never complained when Sherlock threw himself into a good case – he still worked with him whenever he was availale - and did not scold him more than before about his eating or sleeping habits... 

In fact, the only additional tension came from Sherlock hismelf. Having to check John subtle signals to conform to his needs was at time exhausting. 

And, worst than that, he realised that he loved their new arrangement. Loosing John before would have been excrutiating. Loosing him now would be simply unbearable.

The tension increased, and Sherlock spent more and more time awake at night, trying to think about the day before, checking his attitude and making mental notes about things he could have done better.


	4. Chapter 4

Rosie had been fussy all morning. She didn't seem to remember any word except "no", didn't want to eat and didn't find any of her favourite toys interesting. Of course, she didn't want to take her afternoon nap either, and putting her to sleep had been a hardship. And then, a minute ago, she finally fell asleep. John tiptoed outside of her room, relieved. A very loud bang came from downstairs.

"Daaaaaaaad ???"

What the hell had Sherlock done ?

John went back to Rosie for another round of lullabies and sweet pleas.

When he came down a good quarter of an hour later, nothing looked out of order. Sherlock was working on an experiment and didn't seem hurt at all, but he did look at John warily.

John came towards him with an angry look. Sherlock couldn't help himself, he flinched and started to raise his arms to protect his face, then realised his move and let them fall down. If hitting him was what John needed now, he should not deny him.

John froze. Any trace of anger was replaced by astonishment.

" Sherlock, you don't think I'm gonna hit you, do you ?"

Oh. John needed reassurance about his self-control, not an outlet for his anger then.

"Of course not... Sorry about that move, it's... you know, Serbia, sometimes..."

"Because I won't. Ever. Again. I'm so ashamed I did it in the past, especially with what happened to you..." John was making every word very clear.

"It's fine, John, I did push you quite hard and I could do it again, it's not as if you're the only one to blame."

"Of course I am ! Whatever you do, you don't deserve to be hit... You know that don't you ?"

Sherlock nodded, but John didn't seem that convinced. He went on.

"Even right now... You looked like you were expecting to be hit, and wouldn't do anything to stop it. Would you have ? Stopped me ?"

"I woke Rosie up when it's been so hard for you to make her sleep, you're entitled to be upset..."

Sherlock realised it wasn't at all what John wanted to hear, and his choice of words had been a very bad one. He chose quickly another path.

"And I didn't think for a moment you would hit me. Scold me a bit, maybe, that's all. My gesture had nothing to do with you, I just reacted. I'm not afraid of you or what you could do to me."  
Not as long as you stay with me, at least, Sherlock thought. Not something John would want to hear, for sure.

"You know I had bad experiences with angry men during my time away. It has nothing to do with you." Sherlock added for good measure.

"And I hit you when you came back, when you were still hurt. And that time in the morgue... You were dying and... I'll never deserve your forgiveness for that. And right now, if I looked so frightening that it reminded you of being tortured..." John sounded desperate.

"Stop it, John, please. I'm not afraid of you. I forgave you, you know that, and that move right now had nothing to do with you."

Sherlock realised he was repeating himself, something he usually loathed, but he wanted so much John to believe him that he didn't even cared. He didn't think he had anything to forgive John for, but John had made it abundantly clear in the past that he blamed himself for the morgue incident – among many things he blamed himself for. 

"Ok, let's say I believe you." John clearly still had doubts. "I still need to know that you will not let me hurt you, or anyone else, ever again." Sherlock knew John thought above all of Rosie, and the idea that John could hurt her seemed so ridiculous he nearly snorted. But John was dead serious.

"John, you won't. I know you won't." Sherlock said firmly.

"Love, please, promise me."

"But... Yes, right, John, I swear I'll stop you if... things ever get out of control for you."

"That's... ok. Thank you. It means a lot to me." 

John came closer and rest his head on Sherlock's shoulder. It was nice, comforting, and Sherlock allowed himself to enjoy it. A moment later, John added :

"I wish you told me more about what happened to you, so I could avoid any trigger. And I'm not just talking about your time away. I'm not that thick. I know there are many things you're not telling me. I don't ask you anything now, just saying, if you ever feel like talking about anything, I'll listen."

Sherlock felt a lump in his throat and just nodded, not trusting his voice. He'd done wrong again, burdening John with his issues when he should only make his life easier. And letting him guess something was off. If he didn't do better, John would soon decide their relationship was not worth his trouble...

"What was that noise anyway ? Nothing seemed to have exploded, so what happened ?" John asked, stopping Sherlock train of thought and clearly trying to lighten the mood.


	5. Chapter 5

"Here we are again, watching him do his thing like we're all useless."

Sally sounded bitter but she forced herself to smile. She had warmed a lot to Sherlock since he came back from his faked death, but still had trouble accepting his quirks.

"Couldn't he at least keep us informed of what he's doing?"

Sherlock had been thrilled by Lestrade call : a locked room murder, not as exciting as a serial killer, but second best ! And here he was, seemingly oblivious to the body on the couch, but fascinated by the wallpaper pattern. Sally and John were standing at the door, while Lestrade was busy answering a phone call.

"Is he like that at home too ?" She asked, looking at John and looking like she really expected an answer this time. "Muttering for himself and letting you in the dark, expecting you to just wait until he's willing to explain whatever he's thinking about, and calling you an idiot for not seeing what he saw... _Obviously_ " she added in a rather appaling imitation of Sherlock's tone.

John replied with a smile.

"He's way easier and more considerate at home. In fact we're never arguing. Never about anything of importance anyway."

"Excuse me if I don't believe that", replied Sally, "You must be the most patient of men !"

"No, really, everything goes extremely smoothly..."

In fact, John was trying to think about the last time they had argued, and how they acted when they disagreed about something. He realised he couldn't think of anything. Not since they became a couple (they hadn't make that part official yet, but John was aware everyone assumed they had been together way before it actually happened). Before that, yes, they had had arguments, less since he moved back in 221 B after... everything, but still.

But these days, Sherlock always agreed with him. Or to be more precise, Sherlock always seemed to have had from the start the same opinion that John had. The same wishes. The same tastes in a lot of things too. And the same needs. At the same time.

John felt suddenly ill. It didn't make sense. Were they that well-matched ? But they hadn't been before, or they had, in their own way, but they've never been in perfect tune. They were more complementary than identical. Flashes appeared in his mind. Sherlock having cooked exactly the food he had been craving all day when he came back home after work - God, Sherlock cooking was in itself a small miracle, but the man made it look like he enjoyed it so much... Sherlock asking for time alone with Rosie whenever John himself felt overwhelmed or exhausted. Sherlock disappearing whenever John felt like being left alone, and seeming to appear out of thin air whenever he felt lonely. Sherlock playing exactly the kind of music he felt like listening, and stopping as soon as he has had enough. Sherlock always willing in bed, whenever John was in the mood, whatever John had in mind.

They never needed to negotiate anything. Sherlock wanted the exact same thing that he did, every time. It couldn't be... Sherlock was so natural, so spontaneous, but still, John should have seen it before.

Something was very, very wrong.

 

 

The case had been closed in exactly 57 minutes, and Sherlock was complaining to Lestrade.

"Can't you really find something worth my time ? Why do criminals these days always have to be so dumb ? I could have solved this one from home while making tea and helping Mrs Hudson with her crossword puzzles."

"Oh excuse me my Lord if crimes these days are too dull for His Majesty. As if you ever make tea in the first place." Lestrade replied in a derisive tone.

"You do realise that's not the point. The wallpaper was a bit tricky, I'll give you that, but how come none of your lovely team saw the victim's shirt wasn't the right size ? Did you want to make fun of me ? That's it, this case has to be a joke !"

Usually, John would have found this funny, but he was way too nervous. Sherlock noticed, obviously, and immediatly stopped his fussing. That did nothing to ease John's concerns.

The taxi ride back home had been a tense one. They went back to a still asleep Rosie. They had been gone only an hour and a half, and she just had begun her nap when they left. John profusely thanked Mrs. Hudson for watching her - ("really, John, you know it's my pleasure, and I didn't even got to see her ! Bring her to me later, will you ?")

As soon as they were alone, John asked :

"Sherlock ? You remember that time I deduced your birthday ?"

"Yes ?" Sherlock sounded puzzled.

"You remember what I told you ? That I was gonna make a deduction, and if I were right, you would tell me so."

"Yes..."

"I'm going to do that again, ok ?"

"Yes, John." Sherlock seemed very tense. So far from the dismissive way he had seemed to receive that sentence the first time.

"Love, I'm not angry here, I'm just worried, ok ?"

Sherlock just nodded and waited.

"I realised something today, about our relationship, ever since we started... being together. I wonder if you think that, maybe, you have to change who you are to be with me. As if you had to please me all the time for me to want to stay with you... I don't know if I'm making sense right now, but.... Do you actually think something like that ?"

That was in times like that that Sherlock trully appreciated his brain abilities to work at light-like speed. It was like having a big flashing red light inside his head : danger zone, time to give your best.

"Every relationships needs compromises, John. I love doing my best to please you, and I know you do the same for me. Don't you like what we have ?"

Sherlock was doing his best to use a light tone, and he could see John relax a bit, but not entirely.

"Of course I do, love."

John seemed to give some thoughts to his answer, and Sherlock hoped he would let it go. In the same time, a mental note was engraved in his brain. Never underestimate John's observation skills ever again.

"Still, you didn't exactly answer my question."

"Are you seriously complaining because I'm too easy to live with ? That's certainly a first !" Sherlock did his best to sound amused. Then he went on seriously. "You do make me a better man, John. You're my conductor of light, after all", he added with a smile.

"Did Donovan say something ? You've been tense since I left you with her at the crime scene. Is it this freak think again ? Because I don't care about her opinion. I only care about how you see me..." It was time to give a go at deflection. He put on his most seductive smile and moved towards John. "And you could see all of me right now, if you wanted to..."

John licked his lips and let Sherlock slowly stroke his arm. Then they heard Rosie calling for them.

"Dad ? Lock ?"

"I... ok, maybe I imagined things. But... think about it, please ? I..."

Another call from upstairs

"I need to go pick her up, we'll talk about it later, ok ?"

Sherlock had never felt more grateful for Rosie's timing. But it wasn't over, and he needed to be more careful.


	6. Chapter 6

John didn't bring the subject back the day after. Not the one after that. Not the next one. It had been five days now, and Sherlock felt more and more anxious. Was he trying to hard ? Was it showing ? Should he had let John unsatisfied at times just to avoid raising his suspicions ?

It didn't really make sense to him. With his past boyfriends, he had never been good enough. But John had seem to think that he was, in a way, too good. What was that even suppose to mean ? Of course he knew that consent would be an issue when sex was involved (even if he wasn't sure he really understood why). But why would John want him to be willing to, let's say, cook or clean or go for a walk ? Why should it matter who he was doing all these things for ? And what was he supposed to do now ?

He tried to pay attention to John's every move and expression, but it was even harder now because John was more distant. Sherlock felt exhausted. Sleeping was difficult. Eating was an ordeal.

He needed to release the tension, or he wouldn't be able to focuse on John effectively anymore. But how could he do that ? He tried walking across the city for hours. He even went for a run. The Great Sherlok Holmes, running though the city in trainers and sweatpants. He took all the cases he could, even the dullest ones.

He allowed himself to smoke a few cigarettes when John was working. He had to smoke outside, then take a shower and change his clothes. John hadn't noticed so far, but it didn't help. Nothing worked.

He craved something stronger. The self-empowerment of cocaine. The oblivion of heroin. Shooting up wasn't an option, the marks would be too obvious for John, wherever he put the needle. But he had chosen more inconspicuous ways of using in the past when needed. Less satisfactory maybe, but still good enough. And he could keep his habit in check, he knew he could. Cocaine would help him think, make him better, take away the deep feeling of inadequacy that made him want to run away before John left. He could take just enough to be able to try again.

 

 

"You're awfully affectionate tonight. Not that I complain, but you're usually not that straightforward... " John said, smiling.

"I just missed you today. Missed your warmth. You're so warm... " Sherlock got closer, practically putting himself on Jonh's lap on the sofa. He started kissing his neck, then went lower and lower.

"Sherlock, please, stop a moment. Do you think you have to do that to please me ?"

Sherlock looked up from his now kneeling position in front of John. His eyes were dark, his pupils blown, full of arousal.

"Do I look like I don't want it, John ? I though about it all day. And since you came back I could barely think of anything else. It's been so long..." He opened John's flies. "Do you want me to beg ?" Sherlock added teasingly "I don't do that, but I could make an exception...."

"Sherlock I just want to be sure... Oh... "Sherlock had started stroking his cock trough his pants.

"I should be the one asking you that, don't you thing ?" His voice was impossibly low.  
"Should I go on, Captain ?" He pulled John's pants down and started licking the head of his cock.

"I... if you're sure... I... oh yes ! Don't stop !"

 

* * *

 

A black car was waiting for John outside the clinic. He sighed, but knew better than to try and ignore it. He got in, and was surprised to find Mycroft himslef on the back seat, not one of his numerous goons.

"Mycroft, nice to see you, to what do I owe the plesasure ?"

"Dr. Watson, pleasure's mine." Mycroft's voice was low, and he looked concerned, but then, when didn't he ? John didn't have time to ask himself more questions, Mycroft just gave him a brown file.

"What... ?"

"Please, don't be dull and open it."

John did, puzzled. It was pictures of Sherlock. Just three pictures, and John felt his world crumble. The pictures weren't that good, but the meaning was clear. Sherlock was back on drugs.

"I'm aware of the recent evolution of your relationship with my brother. These are the consequences. Don't get me wrong, though, I don't put all the blame on you."

"You don't what ? How the hell is it my fault ? Why would Sherlock... oh, fuck. I should have noticed. These last days... How long ? How long has it been ?"

"These pictures have been taken but my team four days ago. The evidences aren't entirely conclusive, but it would appear Sherlock started using about two weeks ago."

Two weeks... John froze. It had been a few days after their aborted conversation about their relationship. He had wanted to talk with Sherlock about his doubts lots of time since his first attempt, but he never did, (except that half-hearted try the first time Sherlock had initiated sex after their conversation).

The truth was, he was so scared of being right, so scared of discovering Sherlock had felt pressured, or coerced in any way. Not only would it make him lose his lover, his best friend, the second most important person in his life, but it would make him nothing short of a monster.

"That timing does ring a few bells, doesn't it ?" Mycroft's voice cut his train of thoughts. He had taken back the file, but not without giving the most explicite picture to John, who absent-mindedly fold it and put it in his pocket.

"Not your business, Mycroft. Why would you think Sherlock and I being a thing would lead him to that ?"

"Come on, Dr. Watson. You did realise in the past few weeks that my brother has... issues that tend to be exacerbated by intimacy."

"And I'm not asking how you know that. You did seem to think he was a virgin a few years ago, though."

"I never used that word. I said sex would alarm him, and that he didn't know what it was about."

"I fail to see the difference."

"So does Sherlock."

John felt suddenly very, very cold.

""Are you implying he's been abused ?""

"As you're perfectly aware, as high and mighty my brother can be with most people, he would let his very few loved ones do absolutely anything to him without raising a finger to stop them. He lacks any sense of self preservation, and has never been good at choosing his partners. I've yet to figure if you're breaking that pattern or not." Mycroft paused, looking at John with ice-cold eyes. John certainly didn't want to let Mycroft of all people scold him, but he still felt his face burn with shame. Of course Sherlock had been abused. John himself had seen to that. It wasn't far stretched to imagine other people could have taken it even further.

Mycroft went on.

"But a lot of it happened years ago and I didn't have the means to keep him on check as efficiently as I do now. So don't ask me what happened to him, I don't know. I just saw the effects on him."

"Do you have to be cryptic by law ? What are you talking about ?" John was overwhelmed and started to lose his temper.

"It would not be the first time an intimate relationship would end with my brother overdosing in a drug den somewhere. Hence my presence here, to avoid such a dreadful ending"."

"Fuck you, Mycroft. Let me out of this car right now."

John knew he was being unfair, but Mycroft judgemental tone was suddenly unbearable. To his astonishment, Mycroft didn't argue and just waved at the driver. The car stopped, and John got out immediatly.


	7. Chapter 7

As soon as he entered 221B, John heard the violin playing in the living room. He went directly in the kitchen and put the kettle on. The violin stopped and he heard Sherlock come towards him.

"John ? Where is Rosie ? Did something happen ? Is she alright ?"

"Rosie's perfectly fine. She'll be with Molly tonight." John was still facing the kitchen's wall. Breathe. He turn around. "You and I need to talk"

"I... yes ?" 

"Have a look at this" He put the picture out of his pocket.

Sherlock took it, gave him a puzzled look and unfolded the picture.

"Bloody Mycroft ! Why does he always have to ruin eveything ? "

"Sherlock, we'll agree your brother's an insufferable git, but that's not the point here. And don't give me a "that's for a case" crap, we both know it's not. So why ?"

Sherlock was out of his depth. A million plausible excuses and deflections came to his mind but none could do the trick. That was it then. Game over, you lose.

"I... think you should keep the flat. Rosie school's arrangements have all been made for next year, and she could keep the same day care. Plus Mrs. Hudson is always here..."

"Sherlock, have a seat. Here, tea's ready. No one is leaving for now."

"But you made it clear that should I ever..."

"I said and did a lot of crap. There's something bigger going on here, so no one is leaving. At least not until I see the whole picture. So you, Sherlock Holmes, are going to talk. No lie, no avoidance, I want the truth. All of it"

"What could I tell you that would make this acceptable ?"

"It's not about telling me what I want to hear, Sherlock. Oh God. We should have had that talk weeks ago. That's how it is for you, isn't it ? You want to be what you think I want you to be"

"Of course I do. How could it be a bad thing ?"

"Because I want you, Sherlock, not any character that could meet all my expectations. I want the real you".

"No you don't ! You can't. I'm selfish and dismissive and rude, I'm not worth your trouble, and you could do so much better...." Sherlock voice broke. 

He fought the tears gathering in his eyes. He was pathetic.

"You really believe that, don't you ? Why don't you let me judge for myself ?" 

"But then you'll leave. Everybody leaves." 

"I won't. I came back for good, we talked about it when I moved back in, and you seemed to believe me then. What made you change your mind ?"

"Because you chose me ! I.. you have many friends, and colleagues, so if one of them is a freak, it's not a big deal. You can find balance elsewhere. And we have the cases, you love our adventures, so putting up with me to get that was a good deal. But as a lover, you made it clear you'll only have me. And I love that ! I wouldn't have wanted you to go on seeing other people but it would have been a way to keep things balanced..."

"So you had to be perfect to prove me I've made the right decision in choosing you."

"I had to try... "

"And it's been hard on you. So hard you needed release, one way or another. Hence the drugs."

"Yes ! Our new arrangement worked so well in the beginnig.. But I knew I couldn't be it for you, I knew it was never going to last... But then you started to have doubts so soon, I knew I failed even more than I usually do, and I couldn't bear it... I panicked. I couldn't think straight. And the drugs help me focuse, they really do... They made me able to try again."

"I can't say I'm not angry, love, because of course I am. You know I am. But can you believe, just for now, that I don't want to lose you either ?"

"You... don't ?"

"Sherlock, I love you. I should have said that way more often. Then I'm not sure you would have believed me... Or even know what I meant... Anyway. I'm angry, and sad, and disappointed. And frankly terrified by this huge pack of issues we're facing right now. But that's my point here. I want to face it with you. Can you believe that, at least ?"

Sherlock's throat was so tight he couldn't speak. But he felt a warm and unusual feeling in his chest, too. Was it hope ? He raised his head, looked John in the eyes, and nodded.

"I still have Rosie to think about, and as much as I want to be with you, I'll never put her in danger. Do you have anything here in the flat ?"

"No. Never. I have... places. I never brought anything here."

"Ok, that's good. It means you have hidden stashes everywhere in London, but it's still good. So how bad is it ? If you were to stop right now, should we expect any side effects ?"

"Nothing serious, I guess. I don't really know, it's been a while but I really tried to keep it light."

"So we'll see. I can help you with the physical aspect of things, obviously, but the psychological one is the most important. So, do you actually want to stop ?"

"Of course I... you wouldn't let me stay if I..." 

"Not my point here, Sherlock. What I want is one thing. What do you want ?" 

Sherlock looked at John blankly. He seemed totally at loss.

"You know what," John went on, "don't answer that now. Take your time. We're going to have a quiet evening, and whenever you'll be ready, I'll hear you out. And we'll go on from there."

So they had tea, and dinner, and sat together on the sofa to watch one of this crap television show John seemed to love. Sherlock was lost in his thoughts for a long time. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he started talking.

"They really do help, I mean the drugs. They make me stronger, and more focused, and they take boredom away. And of course, there is the high. It does feel so good, you know. Like my mind is on fire, but a perfectly controlled fire, or like everything is finally quiet." 

Sherlock looked at John warily, but John just seemed to wait for him to go on. So he did.

"I did overdose on purpose that day, you know, on the plane."

John had thought so for a long time. That still hurt to hear it. He didn't really get how this was related to their current situation, but deep down, a part of him had always wondered and always needed to know. He had asked for the whole truth, and that was Sherlock giving it to him, in his own "all-or-nothing" way. That was Sherlock showing how far he was willing to go to save their relationship, and, however overwhelmed John was feeling, he realised there was hope for them. 

"It was the only time." Sherlock said. " I... it was a suicide mission. Mycroft said six months. And I couldn't... After my time away, after Serbia of course, but that wasn't even the worst. I couldn't bear the idea of being all alone again. Facing death seemed so much better. I'm so scared of loneliness. Even more since I met you. The drugs take away that fear, but I realise they make it so more likely to come true. I've been alone for a long time. For most of my life. And whenever I tried not to be... It didn't go well. The drugs make me feel acceptable, appropriate. I still crave these feelings. But staying on drugs might make you leave. It might make me dangerous for Rosie. It might make Lestrade put me away from cases. I can't say I don't want the drugs, but there are things I want more. Does that make sense ?" 

"It's the truth Sherlock, that's all I asked for. As I said, we'll go on from there. Together."

John kissed him tenderly.

"Come on, love, let's go to bed."

As soon as they were in bed, John hugged Sherlock closely.

"Sleep, you need it, and I'll be there when you wake up."

"How can you be so calm about all this ?" Whispered Sherlock in the dark

"Oh, I'm not, don't worry. Not getting soft here" John's voice was warm and nearly teasing. "But I am an army doctor. When someone gets hurt doing something very stupid, you first put them out of danger and tend to their wounds. Then you yell at them."

"So if... when this is all sorted, you'll yell at me ?" Sherlock said, sounding strangely hopeful.

"Oh God, like I've never yelled before" John answered fondly.

Both of them knew what these words were : a way to go back to normal, a peace offering.  
Sherlock let exhaustion take him over, and slept peacefuly for the first time in weeks.


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning had been quiet but not tense. John left early to spend some time with Rosie before heading to work, not without giving Sherlock a prescription in case he sufferred from any withdrawal symptoms. They decided to meet for lunch.

After a quick trip at the chemist's, Sherlock spent the whole morning on a cold case a former client had sent him by mail. This woman's great grandmother had been accused of poisoning her husband with chloroform. Yet, she admitted to have bought the product – her husband was abusive – but not to have given it to him. Way more strangely, his stomach was full of the product, but there were no burns to his throat. She had been aquitted, but a hundred years later the mystery still lingered, and the great granddaughter wanted Sherlock's idea. Or ideas. At the end of the morning, he still had three likely theories. He put them aside and went to join John.

Spring had made an early appearance that day, so they found themselves sitting on a pub terrace in the sun. John asked him about the meds – bought and taken – his current physical state – meds working, no withdrawal symptoms worth mentioning, except some intermittent shakes – his cravings – very present but bearable - and they exchanged small talks until they orders had been taken.

"Sherlock, I have to ask, and you have to know that either way, I'm not leaving the flat : do you want to be with me, I mean as a lover, and without considering what I want ?" John suddenly asked. 

The waitress arrived with their orders, giving Sherlock a few minutes to gather his thoughts. When she left, he started.

"I didn't when we started. Not really."

"I've never been good at relationship, you know that. When I realised you were attracted to me, I didn't even considered what I wanted. It was just a choice between giving you what you wanted and taking the risk to lose you.

But then, being with you like that... What I told you that first nigth, that I was in love with you, that part has been true all along. I've been in love with you nearly from the day we met. It wasn't even that I didn't want to change who I am to please you, I did that gladly. I'd do anything for you. I didn't want a relationship because I knew I would fail, and you would leave.

And the more we were together... It was so good, and you were perfect, and seemed to be happy with what I gave you. The more it went on, the more I felt loosing you would be the end of me. Hence the pression, and...well, you know...

I've always wanted you, I just never thought you would want me too. I want to try again, not for you, but with you."

Sherlock realised he had looked everywhere but at John during his speech, so he raised his head slowly. Telling the truth was so foreign to him, he felt at the same time exhausted and extremely relieved. John was staring at him with very bright eyes. He reached for Sherlock hand on the table.

"Wow, that was... Thank you. I'm so glad you told me this. Let's do that, then. Start all over again. I love you, and I want to tell you until you believe me."

"I believe you. Perhaps I don't really understand what it entails, though" Sherlock replied.

"You love me, you said so. Does it entail anything ?"

"I see your point here. It's just so far from what I've been thinking for so long..."

"That you need time to process it ?" John offered.

"Yes.

"Good. I need time too, I need to start all over again and do it right this time."John smiled.  
"So, this is our first real date, then ? Let's do it properly, I'm dying to tell you how great you look in this shirt."

"I'm afraid I can't tell the same about this jumper of yours, honestly, if I'm to be your boyfriend, I shoud be given a right of veto ..."

Sherlock felt a bit bold, the teasing being so innocent but so far from the way he had interacted with John since they became lovers. So close to whom Sherlock really was, in fact.

"You secretly love my jumpers." John was beaming.

"I love you in whatever outfit you happen to be wearing, that's not the same..."

 

The quiet banter went on for the rest of the lunch, and they eventually went their separate ways, John promising to be back home early. 

They would make it, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cold case Sherlock studies is – loosely based on - the Pimlico poisoning of 1886, a famous unsolved british mystery irl ;-)  
> Thanks to anyone who came that far, hope you liked it !

**Author's Note:**

> As you probably noticed, english is not my first language, so please feel free to correct me ! Thanks a lot.


End file.
